Violent Delights Have Violent Ends Novels & Stories

“I wanted to talk to you, '' she replied, trying to sound as sweet as she could. Dante looked over to her with some love but the hatred and rage within his eyes was fast consuming that love. A woman he was once willing to do anything and everything for her sake, there was a time he could take a bullet for her, but right now he wanted to put a bullet digging deep into her skull with enough volume to blow her brains into tiny particles just like he had found his daughter. “You should leave and never think of coming back here. You are the last person I want to see and trust me when I say I will never give in to those nasty ploys of yours' ' Emelda had her mouth opened. She was yet to say a word

“Move in. Cut the lights. I want them to die in the darkness they created.” The van doors opened without a sound. The team slipped forward like shadows, breaching through gaps in the wire fence. Dante moved among them, every step on the cracked asphalt a declaration of war. The dark romance that had bound him to Leonard had found its most brutal outlet—protecting his blood through the very violence he had been taught. Inside, the stench of rotting meat and rust choked the air. Laughter echoed from the upper level—men drunk on the illusion of victory.

Satisfied by what his ears were hearing, that lascivious and pleasurable sound that came from his wife's lips, Valentino buried himself into the depths of her entrails fiercely, going in and out with a brute force, echoing the dry slap of both bodies. The girl let out a loud shriek as she felt so ecstatic and full. She had recently had a violent orgasm, but again in her lower abdomen an overwhelming electricity was swirling, tension was invading her and looming over her entire trembling body, giving her the warning that, soon, the next orgasm would be more savage and violent than the previous one. Valentino, lost in his depths, wanting to reach the absolute peak, and wanting to go beyond his

"I've got you, amore mio. Nothing will touch you while I'm breathing. I promise." Isabella's breathing gradually evened out, her body going boneless against him as exhaustion finally claimed her. But even in sleep, she held onto him with desperate strength, as if afraid he'd disappear. Dante stared at the ceiling, knowing he wouldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. Not when his mind was already working through strategies, contingencies, ways to eliminate the threat to his wife before it materialized. He'd told Isabella that violence was sometimes necessary. What he hadn't told her was how much he'd enjoy destroying Viktor Volkov. How he'd savor every moment of making the Bratva leader suffer for da

He pressed himself against the cleft of her varnished buttocks, his hands gripping the golden wire at her hips. He took her there, in that most final, dominating way. It was a claiming of territory, a brutal punctuation mark. Each thrust rocked her on the pedestal, making the wire sing and the fresh, carved signature on her back weep fresh tears of blood. The pain from the carving, from the staples, from the violation, fused into a single, all-consuming fire. There was no pleasure, only an apocalyptic sense of ending.

Then, just as quickly, he tossed the man to the ground like he was nothing like he was bored of him. And then the kicking started. Each blow landed with a sickening crunch, bones snapping under the force of it, but Vincent? He looked like he was enjoying the sound. Even in the dim moonlight, I could see it. The twisted pleasure in his eyes. The way he thrived in this violence, how it seemed to breathe life into him. What kind of human being was he? My gaze flickered to his injured arm, and my stomach lurched. Blood dripped steadily from his wound, mixing with the other man’s on the ground, and yet he didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even acknowledge it.

This asshole must have night vision or something because I know he can see my father. I silently pray that my father will stay out of this conversation, but apparently, curiosity, or perhaps fear for my safety, gets the better of him. "W-what?" He stutters. Vincent laughs-he finally got what he wanted. "I'd do it again, even if she died giving birth to one of my children. If she was dead and I was still alive- I wouldn't care." His words feel like bullets drilling into my heart, but I don't show the pain. If this is where we are going, that's precisely what he'll get. I'll return the same energy. If Vincent had to die and I had to live, I wouldn't care either. It seems that his moment of vic

Many people assumed that she will end up with him and kept on commenting that writer always do this and that. I would only prefer you to remember I don't do injustice with my characters. Rose will suffer but if Harry went overboard with his cruelty he will regret as well. There is always a limit to everything. But if he did something which is not acceptable for even revenge then he will indeed face the consequences as well. Moreover, there is a tag and also mentioned in the disclaimer about 'Violence and Cruel' for a reason. This story is heavily dark. And there is violence and a lot of cruelty from the Male lead side. And if you can't handle go read the tags and also the warnings before con

Helios had taken a hit in the arm, blood soaking his sleeve, but he refused to slow down. “They’re coming,” he said. And they did. Wave after wave. We fought like animals. Shot after shot. Reload. Fire. Duck. Explosions ripped through the ceiling. The windows shattered. I shot until I had nothing left, then picked up a fallen rifle and kept going. Then—suddenly—it was over. The last Volkov dropped. Silence. I blinked through the smoke, my body trembling, my hands slick with blood and sweat. Around me, survivors stood slowly, stunned.

The bullet grazed her shoulder — not enough to kill, not enough to stop her. She slammed into him, blade slashing through the air. Lena screamed, stumbling backward, watching as the two deadly shadows collided in a violent, desperate struggle. Elias shoved her away, twisting her wrist. Victoria kicked his knee, knocking him off balance. The blade flashed again, slicing across Elias’s arm. He grunted in pain but didn’t drop the gun. Victoria panted, fury filling her eyes. “You never deserved her trust!” “And you never deserved her love,” Elias spat back.